


Crush

by jericho



Category: Backstreet Boys
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:39:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jericho/pseuds/jericho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howie tries to live with his crush, with relatively unsuccessful results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crush

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2000.

It happened slowly, like a dripping tap filling a bucket. It was subtle at first, and eventually it made Howie's heart so full that he could barely stand the weight. 

It started right before the first concert of their Black and Blue tour. A fan had sent a huge bundle of helium balloons, a stuffed animal attached to four of them. The blue one said "Kevin" in bright letters. The red one said "Nick." The yellow one was for "Alex" and the green one was for Brian. They were surrounded by blank balloons, all attached to a gift basket. 

Kevin bopped the balloons around, turning them to check them, looking for Howie's. And there wasn't one. 

"Guess you must have done something to her in a past life," AJ joked. 

Howie gave a pained smile. "No big deal. I'm used to it." 

He meant for it to sound light-hearted, and he supposed it did. Everyone went back to changing into their costumes, but Nick did a double take, surveying Howie with calm eyes and then smiling. Howie smiled back and zipped up his pants. 

The next day Howie took a deep breath, a warm breeze blowing through his hair as he tightened his grip around his suitcase. In front of him was the tour bus, long and sleek. His home for the next few months. Nick and AJ were already on the bus, milling around and claiming bunks. On the last tour Howie had ridden with Kevin, and then with Brian and AJ. This time they decided to mix things up again. 

Howie stepped on and called out "Who goes there?" 

AJ's head popped out of a bunk on the right hand side, followed by Nick's from one of the left bunks. Nick motioned to the bunk below him. "That one's yours." 

Howie strolled back, tossing his suitcase in the bunk Nick picked out for him, and heard a crackle. He pulled back his suitcase and looked in. There was a foil helium balloon attached to a stuffed animal on his pillow. 

Howie took out the balloon and surveyed it. It was shiny and circular, with a Marvin the Martian on the front. The stuffed animal was a little kangaroo with a baby in its pouch. 

Nick poked his head out again. "I couldn't find one that said 'Howie.'" 

Howie looked up and came face to face with a dazzling grin. "Thank you," he said, and if he didn't know better, he thought he might be blushing. 

"No problem," Nick replied, popping back in his bunk again. Howie could hear Nick rifling through his suitcase, pulling out his toothbrush and strawberry shampoo and everything else he'd stick in the bathroom. 

Howie sat in his new bunk, tugging his suitcase to the side, and tried to hide his smile. 

*** 

A week later the five of them sat in a Burger King. The town's population was probably 700, including the livestock, but it seemed like a nice, subtle place to eat. Normally they'd wait until they got where they were going, or snacked on the bus. Brian's wife gave them baskets of fresh fruit for their bon voyage, wanting to keep them healthy. But on the counter, behind the fruit, were stacks of chips and popcorn. 

But AJ couldn't wait. He was hungry _now_ , and he went up and got the bus driver to radio over to the other bus and let everyone know that they were stopping. AJ wanted McDonald's, but the second they pulled into the parking lot, Kevin jumped out and flipped his lid. "We can't eat at McDonald's!" he said. 

"But I want nuggets," AJ said defensively. 

"We have a Burger King endorsement, you doorknob." 

They proceeded to swat at each other, and Howie tensed a little. But then AJ pulled away, laughing and readjusting his sunglasses. "All right, all right. Burger King!" 

It was another quarter mile to Burger King, through the town's main strip. Howie hoped they wouldn't be recognized, but the second they stepped off the bus, everyone in the parking lot turned and stared. Howie held his breath. Maybe it was the busses. But then a six-year-old girl being loaded into a car pointed and said "Look, Mommy! It's the Backstreet Boys!" 

They actually ate in peace for about 20 minutes before a couple of teenage girls inched over to their table. "Can we have your autograph?" the one with the braces said. The other was a shaking mass of giggles. 

"Of course, darlin'," Kevin drawled, taking the Burger King paper placemat from the girl. He uncapped the pen they handed him and signed it first, right in the middle. Then Brian added his signature under Kevin's. Brian passed it to AJ, who signed the upper right hand corner. Nick signed the upper left hand corner. 

"Thank you," the girl said, braces gleaming. She took the placemat back before the giggling girl poked her. 

"Get his too," she said, still trembling with snickers. 

"Oh yeah." The girl with braces set the placemat in front of Howie. Howie couldn't help but stare at it. _Get his too_. He wondered why he should even sign it. 

But he did, taking the pen from Kevin and scrawling his name at the bottom. He didn't even bother to smile when he handed it back. 

The girls shuffled away and everyone ate in silence for a moment. 

"It must be hard for her to breathe after awhile," Nick said suddenly, crunching on his fry. Everyone dissolved into quiet laughter. Howie laughed at the window, watching the girls get into a station wagon. When he looked back, Nick gave him a quick wink. 

The show that night went perfectly, especially for the second city of the tour. The crowd sang its lungs out, and at the end of the set Howie's blood was still racing. They left the stage and strolled down the generic hallway, past the painted brick walls and over the slate-gray concrete. They practically leapt into their dressing room, still high from the performance. 

Nick wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, sweat dripping from his bangs. He smiled at Howie and Howie couldn't help but return it. Then Nick narrowed his eyes and stepped closer, leaning in until their noses almost touched. Howie's heart thumped double time, tiny shudders drumming down his spine. 

"Hold still," Nick said, fingers inching toward Howie's face. "You have an eyelash." 

Howie closed his eyes, not knowing where the eyelash was. He felt Nick's fingers brush his cheek and finally looked. 

Nick held up his finger, the escaped eyelash resting delicately on the end of it. "Make a wish." 

And there was no question, by that time, what his wish was. He took a deep breath, an invisible anchor tied to his heart, and blew the eyelash off the tip of Nick's finger. 

*** 

Howie leaned against the hood of the car, watching Nick and Mandy huddled close across the parking lot. Nick leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, Mandy's hands resting on Nick's sides and her head tilting to kiss Nick back. Howie tried not to watch. He really, really did. He wished briefly that he actually smoked, so he'd have some reason to be standing there in the cool afternoon air, leaning against the car like an idiot. Kevin and Brian were inside, handling one of the radio interviews. Howie chose to sit that one out, instead just milling around behind the venue, stretching his legs. He'd already done more talking in one day than he ever wanted to again. And the questions were always the same, that monotonous drone of how the tour was going and how they were happy to be back in town. And none of them were ever really directed at Howie. It wasn't that they didn't listen if Howie answered. But if he sat and said nothing, no one really noticed. 

So there he was, leaning against the car like a hood ornament. He thought the Nick and Mandy thing was over, but apparently they'd drifted back together again. He watched Nick pull away and Mandy swat a little at his stomach. They were always playful with each other. It was either that or fighting. Nick didn't seem to know how to get along with Mandy unless it was one extreme or the other. 

AJ strolled across the parking lot, sunglasses perched on the end of his nose, a cigarette dangling between two slender fingers. Howie stiffened and tried to look like he was inspecting the fine detail of the concrete. 

"Wazzzup?" AJ asked. 

Howie shrugged. "Nothing. Just trying to get a couple of minutes to myself." 

"Oh. That's my cue." AJ turned 180 degrees and took a couple of steps toward the venue again. 

"No," Howie said quickly. "It's okay. I'm just...hanging out." He tapped the car. "You can hang out next to me." 

AJ turned and strolled back, leaning against the car next to Howie so their hips bumped together. 

"How come you're not in there?" Howie asked. 

"Because last time we were here, that deejay was a dick to me," AJ said. "Remember? He was the one who asked if I really thought I could sing hard rock." 

"Oh yeah." Howie nodded slowly. 

"I thought about going in there and answering his questions and finishing every sentence with 'prick,' but Kevin would have a baby." 

"Definitely. Good thing you didn't. And besides, this isn't a good time in the tour for Kevin to get pregnant." 

AJ pushed himself off the car and motioned across the parking lot. "Heads up!" 

Howie looked over and saw Mandy push Nick so hard that he stumbled into the car behind him. 

"Ding! Ding!" AJ said. "Round four!" 

Howie tensed. He wanted to run over there and stop the argument. He wanted to throw Mandy over his shoulder and carry her to one end of the parking lot, and then take Nick and put him on the other end. Mandy and Nick fighting was about as rare as Madonna on MTV, but in the past, Howie hadn't really thought about how much it must hurt. But the more he noticed, the more he knew it did. 

Pretty soon, the yelling was audible, Mandy throwing her arms around and Nick standing back, arms crossed. Even from there, Howie knew that Nick was stone-faced, his eyes like ice chips. 

"What do you think it's about?" AJ asked. "Want to place bets?" 

Howie shook his head. "No," he said quietly. 

"Well, I've got a fifty that says she cheated on him." 

Howie didn't answer. He just watched with narrowed eyes. 

AJ tapped Howie's arm. "Relax, Sweet D. They'll get over it. They always do." 

Howie sighed. If only it was about that. "I'm gonna head to the bus for a few minutes," Howie said. "I'll be back." 

"'Kay. I have to call the contest winner for the radio station, anyway." 

Howie crossed the pavement slowly, trying not to look in Nick and Mandy's direction. His footsteps on the stairs made an empty sound that seemed to echo through the bus. It was a neat feeling, being all alone on there, without the usual mumbles and shouts and jokes, or the steady hum of the engine. 

He trudged to his bunk, throwing back the curtain, then realized he'd forgotten why he'd come there in the first place. Maybe just to catch his breath. To get away from the pain of looking at Nick for a few minutes. Howie crawled in his bunk and sat cross legged, trying to decide what to do next. Trying to assess what phase he was in. 

It wasn't the first time Howie had a crush on someone, or even the fifth or tenth or twentieth. In fact, if he looked back, his life had been a constant stream of longing, one crush after another, one not fully resolving itself until another had started to form. He didn't act on any of them. He just lived with the ache, letting it swell inside of him until it got so bad that it hurt to move. Then, just when he thought he couldn't stand it anymore, the feeling would lift, like a fever breaking, and he would be normal for a few days until someone else crossed his path. The only thing that made this crush different was that it was on one of his group members. That meant he was going to have to take his years of hard-earned experience and suppress it. And by now, he figured the suppression was down to a science. 

First, he'd let himself bask in it for a few days. He'd indulge in it, feeding it until it was plump and ripe and the only thing he could think about. He'd turn every possible scenario over in his head, and let himself imagine what it would be like to do everything with that person - kiss, shower, make love, snuggle on a couch and watch movies. Then he would yank himself back to reality, knowing that it would never happen, and that he could survive this if he could only hide it from his eyes and his actions and his tone of voice long enough to get through it. That was phase two. 

Phase three was the loneliness that seemed to sit in his chest like a lump of coal. A tiny fire that burned slowly but surely, its flames licking at his heart and stomach, so no matter what he was doing - performing, sleeping, working out - he could feel it in there. It made everything else seem worse than it really was. Being ignored during an interview made him think that he was ugly and stupid. Missed dance steps made him wonder if even his mother was lying when she said she loved him. And that was by far the worst phase. The one that he wondered if he could live through. But every time he did. 

Howie leaned forward and glimpsed something yellow peeking out from under his bunk. He bent over and tugged on it, pulling out one of Nick's T-shirts. Nick threw his belongings everywhere, leaving his clothes in a heap where he took them off, or dropping a magazine exactly where he'd been reading it. It wasn't unusual to see clothes raining from Nick's bunk. 

Howie fingered the tattered edges of the shirt. It was one of Nick's favorites, fading and full of loose strings and nearly indecipherable lettering. Howie timidly brought the shirt to his nose and smelled it. Just a little. It smelled like deodorant - something minty, like Rite Guard - with a faint trace of Nick's natural scent, deep and sweet and impossible to describe. 

Howie tossed the shirt to the end of the bunk and rested his head in his hands. He was still in phase one. 

***

Nick's 21st birthday party was held in a trendy club. Normally it would have been filled with circuit kids and rich twentysomethings who worked for new media companies. Except on that night, the only people in there were the Backstreet Boys, their crew and whatever friends had flown there to celebrate. 

Kristin showed up with her arms full of presents, the tags reading "From Kevin and Kristin." If nothing else, Howie figured it was handy to be married just to have someone else do the shopping. Kristin's presence put Kevin in a giddy mood, which started a chain reaction, so by the time the party started everyone was laughing and hugging each other. 

The tour manager had paid a wad of cash up front so everyone could drink without worrying about paying for it. By 10 o'clock, the guys in the stage crew were so drunk that they knocked over their table. After the presents were opened and the candles on the cake blown out, the deejay started the music and the lights started to whirl. 

Nick galloped out into the middle of the dance floor and extended his arms, spinning around like a little kid playing on his front lawn. Howie watched him from one of the bar stools, winding a lock of hair around his fingers. Nick noticed Howie and motioned for him to come out on the dance floor with him. Howie smiled and shook his head. 

Kristin pulled up a stool and flopped down on it. "He's pickled," she said. 

"Who, Nick? Yeah." Howie wound the strand of hair tighter. Nick danced so effortlessly that his feet seemed to barely touch the ground. 

"I am so bloated, Howie. I just want to go to bed." 

Howie glanced at her. He wasn't sure what it was about him that made women want to tell him all of their girl problems, but everywhere he ended up hearing about cramps, or uncooperative hair, or jerk boyfriends. 

"Yeah," Howie said, for lack of something better to say, and looked back at Nick. He couldn't take his eyes off him. 

Kristin rested her hand on Howie's arm, the contact small but warming. "Are you okay?" 

"Me? Yeah. I'm fine." 

"Are you sure? Because you don't look fine. It's way too early in the tour to have that look on your face." 

Howie looked over to find Kristin fishing a slim pack of cigarettes out of her purse. Howie's eyes widened a little. "What are you doing?" 

"Nothing," Kristin mouthed, putting a cigarette between her lips. 

"Kevin is going to kill you for that." 

The cigarette bobbed as Kristin talked. "Well, we're not going to tell him, are we?" She struck a match and it cast an orange glow across her face as she lit up. 

Howie smiled a little, shaking his head as his gaze automatically slipped back to the dance floor. 

Kristin leaned in, blowing the smoke to the side when she exhaled. "So you know my secret. What's yours?" 

"I don't have one." 

Kristin grabbed his chin and tugged it gently until Howie was facing her. "You know what it is about you, Howie? Those eyes. When you're happy, they practically sparkle. And when you're sad, they break my heart." 

Howie shrugged a little, trying to smile as he reached for his drink. 

Kristin looked at Nick and then back at Howie. "How long as this been going on?" 

Howie stared into his drink. "There's nothing going on." 

"Okay, let me rephrase. How long have you wanted something to go on?" 

Dammit, Howie thought. They lived with each other day in and day out, bumping around in closed quarters like they were chained together. But an outsider could come in and notice everything. 

"Um...I don't know. Too long." His voice wavered a little just admitting it out loud. 

"Are you going to do anything about it?" 

"God, no." Howie cleared his throat, trying to get his voice back to normal. "I'll be over it soon." 

"Oh, Howie," Kristin said, in the same tone a mother would use if an absent father promised to show up after seven years and didn't. 

"I'm fine. Really." 

"Maybe he likes you back. You never know. He's always been sort of into whoever he likes. I don't think it matters if it's a girl." 

Howie sighed deeply. "Well, really, the odds aren't good." 

Before he knew it, he was being hugged, Kristin's vanilla perfume sweet in his nostrils, her arms warm and inviting because it had been so long since someone just hugged him, without it being routine or half-hearted. 

Howie heard a Kentucky drawl from behind him. "Hey, hey. Break it up. That's my wife." 

Kristin broke away quickly and dropped her cigarette on the floor. She smiled weakly when Kevin put his arm around her. 

"What are you guys doing?" Kevin asked, his eyelids already half mast. 

"Nothing," Kristin said, a puff of smoke escaping when she spoke. 

Kevin stepped backward. "Are you _smoking_?" 

"There goes your secret," Howie smiled, patting both of their arms before he headed over to AJ. 

AJ was on his third tequila shot when Nick wandered over. "Shots all around!" he called, banging his hand on the bar. 

"I'll handle it!" AJ yelled. "Don't you dare get yourself a drink!" 

Nick flopped on the bar stool next to Howie and smiled broadly. "Are you doing one?" 

"I...um...." 

"Of course he's doing one," AJ said, passing a little shot glass to Nick and another to Howie. 

The liquor spilled onto Howie's fingers as he took it and examined it. "What is it?" 

"Raspberry Schnapps." 

"I didn't even know there was such a thing." 

"There is," AJ said. "Raspberries! Nick's favorite fruit." 

"Oh, come on," Nick said with a lopsided smile. "Howie's my favorite fruit." 

"Mine too!" AJ said, raising his shot glass. And Howie couldn't even bring himself to be offended. "To Nick-ay and his being legal everywhere." 

"To Nick-ay and his being legal everywhere," Howie mumbled in agreement, and they all downed it. 

By the time they headed back to the hotel, even Howie was stumbling. Kevin and Kristin had left early, and Brian left even earlier than that. So Howie rode in the elevator with AJ and Nick, the two of them singing some Irish folk song Howie didn't know. 

"There was an old man named Michael Finnegan, he grew whiskers on his chin-egan," Nick sang. He leaned back against the wall and laughed. "That's the only line I remember." 

"Wind came up and blew them in again," AJ sang, "poor old Michael Finnegan, begin again...." 

"Please don't," Howie moaned. 

"How-eee," Nick said, "you're such a downer tonight. What's wrong?" 

Howie shrugged. "Nothing." 

The elevator opened and the three of them spilled into the hall, heading toward their rooms with Nick in the lead. "We're going to Nick's room," AJ announced. "He's got a full mini-bar." 

Howie motioned down the hall. "I think I'm just gonna head to bed." 

"Oh no," Nick said, throwing his arm around Howie's shoulders. "That's not allowed." Nick kept his arm around Howie as he fiddled with the key card, finally unlocking the door and pulling Howie inside. 

Howie held his breath, watching AJ head to the fridge while Nick lunged to his bed. Howie already knew what Nick would find - a helium balloon with a Beanie Baby attached to it. It was the stuffed seal, the one Nick got their manager to look for on EBay. 

"Oh my God!" Nick said, spinning around and holding up his present. "Did you get this for me?" 

Howie shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. "Yeah. Happy birthday." 

Before he knew it, he was knocked off balance by a giant hug, Nick's body practically eclipsing Howie's as Nick planted a series of kisses on Howie's cheek. "Oh, Howie, thank you," Nick moaned. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou." 

"You're welcome," Howie said, patting Nick's back, knowing that his cheeks were scarlet. 

Nick stepped back and looked at his present again. "Where did you find this? There were only, like, 500 of them made." 

"My sister found it somewhere," Howie told his feet. But he couldn't help but smile. He smiled the whole time he sat in Nick's room, listening to Nick and AJ get progressively drunker. Nick tugged at Howie's leg when Howie said he was going to bed, and that made Howie smile even more. He smiled when he walked down the hallway to his room, and smiled when he climbed in bed, and smiled when he fell asleep. Phase one seemed to be lasting longer than usual. 

*** 

Phase two came in a rush, when Howie lay in his bunk listening to Nick on his cell phone arguing with Mandy. Nick hung up and threw the phone at the couch, and even with the pillows there, it landed with a loud thud. He cringed when Nick tore through the hallway, muttering things that sounded like "fucking bitch." Because Nick wouldn't be so angry if he didn't care. The fact that he cared was a glaring sign of heterosexuality. 

Howie stayed curled up in his bunk, trying to write songs. He read a stack of fan mail his mother had shipped to him, trying to absorb the positive affirmation. He flubbed his lines on stage. He opened his mouth during a radio interview and said something so ridiculous that he felt like Forest Gump. At night he lay on his back, in a hotel room or on the bus, staring at the ceiling and trying to keep his breathing even because it seemed to push the tears away. Even if the ache was spreading like cancer, starting in his chest and pushing its way through his body, he was not going to cry. He used to think that crying was a way to shed some of the pain, but he knew now that it only made it worse. 

And for once, he was happy to be pushed into the background. He was happy that the fans came straight for Nick or Brian. He was happy that he could sign autographs a tad slower than the rest of them, knowing that fewer people wanted his signature. And instead of watching Nick, he tried not to look at him. Looking at Nick, with his mop of golden hair and his crystal blue eyes, was like staring at the sun too long. If he didn't stop, it would eventually blind him. 

They were two months into the tour, somewhere in Nevada, when AJ wanted to stop for food. "I want flapjacks," he announced, striding up and tapping the driver on the shoulder. 

"He wants flapjacks," Howie heard the driver say into his radio. 

The other driver's voice was a distant crackle. "Kevin says they're not stopping for flapjacks." 

"I want flapjacks," AJ said pointedly. "With syrup and blueberries and a big glass of orange juice. So tell Kevin he can kiss my butt." 

The driver sighed and talked into his radio again. "AJ says he wants flapjacks with syrup and orange juice, and that Kevin can kiss his butt." 

The other end of the radio was silent for moment, before the other driver's voice rang through the static. "Okay. Kevin says we're stopping, but just this one time." 

The bus groaned into the parking lot of the Fifth Wheel truck stop, a large, dusty place on the side of the highway. Howie slumped on the pillows next to the window, leaning his chin on the ledge. 

AJ paced back and forth until the bus stopped. Then he leapt into the sunlight. Nick wavered behind Howie. "Are you coming?" 

"I'm not hungry," Howie mumbled, staring up at the sign. "You guys go ahead." Brian appeared in Howie's line of vision, stripped down to his tank top with his heavier shirt tied around his waist. Then he saw Kevin and AJ engage in their routine swatting match. 

Then the drivers appeared, following a safe distance behind the other guys. Nick still hadn't moved. 

Howie looked back at Nick. "Go ahead. Seriously. I'm just not hungry." 

Nick flopped down on the pillows next to Howie, leaning on the ledge and following Howie's line of vision. "That's not you, you know." 

"What?" Howie asked lazily. 

Nick tapped his finger on the window, pointing up to the sign. 

"I know," Howie said. "I know that. I've always known that. I just have a lot on my mind." 

"What's on your mind, then?" Nick poked Howie's side lightly and Howie couldn't help but close his eyes. Nick moved a little closer, so their faces were side by side at the window, their chins resting on their hands as they peered out. 

"Nothing. I mean...everything. But nothing. Really. Nothing for you to worry about. I'll be better soon." 

Nick ran his hand across Howie's hair, almost like he was petting him, and Howie had to close his eyes again. "Are you sad?" Nick asked. 

Howie swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yes." 

"Yeah," Nick said thoughtfully, pressing his forehead against the window. "I'm sad too." 

"Why? Mandy?" 

"No. Not her. I mean, she's just like...whatever. I don't think that's ever gonna work out. She's so spastic. She doesn't listen to a word I say." 

"Sure it will," Howie said, glancing at Nick. "You guys just need to get everything straightened out." 

Nick's expression remained calm. "I don't want it to," he said simply. "I don't love her. I need someone who'll listen to me." 

"I'm sure you'll find them," Howie said absently. He really wished Nick would just go in and get flapjacks with everyone else, and leave him alone while phase three kicked in. Or maybe it already had. 

Howie stared hard at the restaurant, seeing AJ closest to the window, smoking as he waited for his order. He sensed Nick move closer, and closed his eyes as Nick's lips pressed against his cheek. 

"Thank you," Howie mumbled, not really meaning it. Nick kissed him on the cheek all the time, and it had gone from being playful and fun to making his heart crack in two. 

"Look at me," Nick said lightly. 

Howie took his chin off the window sill and looked at Nick, knowing that if Nick were paying attention, he'd be able to read everything on Howie's face. 

Nick leaned in even closer, his eyes closing slowly. Howie closed his eyes too without even thinking about it. His heart was pounding against his breast bone, his brain filled with static. 

Nick pressed his lips lightly against Howie's. It wasn't even a kiss, really. More like a trial run for a kiss. Howie felt his insides melt, his entire body shivering. He enjoyed it for about five seconds before reality kicked in and he pulled away. 

Nick sat up straight and pulled back. "Sorry," he blurted. "Sorrysorrysorry. I don't know why I...." 

"Yeah, cool," Howie said quickly, still trying to recover. "It's okay. It was just a...." 

"Yeah," Nick replied, leaping into a standing position. 

There was a long moment of awkward silence. Howie rested his forehead in his hand, breathing hard, tears already pooling somewhere behind his eyes. "Just go inside, Nick," he said. "Please." He couldn't hold it in much longer. He didn't need experience to know that. 

Nick danced from one foot to the other. "Sorry," he repeated. "Okay, I'll just..." Nick edged to the door, almost there. Howie kept his back turned, already running a shaking finger under each eye. 

He knew Nick was getting closer. His hand was on the door. Then he heard Nick walk back, and Howie's brain screamed with panic. Get out of here, he thought. Please, please, please, just get out of here. 

"No," Nick said loudly, like he could hear Howie's thoughts. 

Howie kept his head down. "What?" 

"I mean, I'm not sorry," Nick said, stopping in front of Howie like he was bracing himself for a confrontation. "I mean, I'm sorry if I offended you, or whatever. But I like you. And I think you like me too." 

Howie was still afraid to look up, still facing the pillows and shading his face with his hand. "Nick, you don't know what you're talking about." 

"You mean you don't like me?" 

And there it was. Despite all the strength and iron will, Howie felt a single tear slide down his cheek. When he tried to speak, his voice was barely audible. "Of course I do." 

Nick collapsed on the pillows, falling to his knees and tugging Howie's hand away from his face. "Look at me. Look at me." Their lips met in a clumsy, fleeting kiss and Nick pushed him back even farther, until Howie was lying on the pillows, Nick sprawled out on top of him. Nick's hand ran across Howie's forehead, then wiped away the tears with shaking fingers. "Give me a chance," Nick whispered. "Please, just give me a chance. Don't run away." 

"I'm not," Howie said. And then they kissed again, for real this time, Nick's lips pressing against his and their tongues slipping desperately into each other's mouths. Nick grabbed Howie's hand and their fingers laced together, tightening and then relaxing. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" Howie asked, his voice still shaky. 

"Why didn't _you_ tell _me_?" 

"Because I'm not..." Howie took a deep breath, looking past Nick and focusing on the ceiling. "Because I'm not the type someone like you would go for." 

"You are," Nick said. "Stop that. You are." And then Nick was kissing his eyelids, squeezing his hand, his kisses becoming long and deep and languid as they got used to the feel of each other's mouths. 

"Get up," Nick said lightly, crawling to his knees and tugging Howie into a sitting position. Howie followed Nick back to his bunk and climbed in, their limbs locking as Nick lay his head on Howie's chest, right over his jagged heartbeat. Howie closed his eyes, willing his breathing to return to normal, and relaxed into phase four. 

  



End file.
